


Latching Onto Ethereal Things

by Nyxierose



Series: We Are The Storm [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lincoln finds a reason to keep fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latching Onto Ethereal Things

You shut off the day Cada Alleyne died, and even though it's been ten years, you don't plan to snap back to anything resembling normal behavior anytime soon. At first, they said you loved her, that you did what you did because you were mourning her. When two years passed and you still didn't speak, they realized better. Something _happened_ to you, and being a voluntary mute was how you dealt with it. Well, at least they were partially right…

Truth be told, you wish you'd died. Your kill count was neither objectively impressive nor the highest out of your Games, and you're no fighter by nature. You're not sure _what_ you are, but you killed three people when you were fifteen and you've spent the last decade trying and failing to come to terms with that. They haunt you at night, two boys and that one unhinged girl from Four, the one who should've won instead of you. Pity she heard voices when she did…

You've got a reputation, at least. The one who doesn't talk, they say, like it's some kind of joke to them - and maybe it is, seeing as it's their so-called offer that helped make you this way. You're decent-looking enough, apparently, and when they made their play a week after your seventeenth, you didn't have it in you to say no. Keeps your family safe, your mother and brother - never mind they pretend you don't exist anymore, like you're some kind of disappointment. And maybe you are - you can hear just fine, and you know what some people say about you, that you're not right in the head. Maybe they've got a point.

The day the third Quell is announced, you're one of two men on the stage - two men and six women, led by fierce Anya who won three years before you and has all the others around her finger. Despite everything, you have a certain respect for her abilities, and you know she'll go in no matter what name gets pulled - just as you will, because you want this all over with and it'd be an easy way to die. So maybe, then, it's just as well that they pull your name anyways. One last chance, you'll go fast, you have a plan. And then… then you don't.

"Pity we have to play nice with that one," Anya hisses. You're on the train, unsure of any location beyond that, and she's watching clips of the other returning Tributes with an amused grin on her lips. At the moment, the screen is paused on an image of a nondescript teenage girl - one of last year's, you remember now, one of the two who broke the system. No, that one, she broke the system just by _existing_ …

"You think she's pretty," Anya laughs, rolling her eyes. "Well, that's about all she's got going for her, that and what'll be done to me if I end the little bitch. Not sure how much I care. She only had one kill, barely knows what she's doing, would be _easy_ to take out if alliances were just a little bit different… but no, she's some sort of icon for _them_ , which means that as pretty as her blood would look…"

You decide, then and there, that you're going to protect that girl. You can't even remember her name, but from what little you've seen, she deserves a chance to live so much more than you ever will. 'Least she'd probably do something with it.

You get your chance on the second day of the Games, or maybe it's the third - you're not sure, your sense of time isn't the best and the questionable environment isn't exactly helping. What you _are_ sure of is that the boy from Six, one of the few that went feral during their Games and the only such person you know for sure is in the arena right now, is staring down the girl from Twelve and you highly doubt he got the same information you did about keeping her alive. Even if he did, you suppose, he's never come off as the type to let that effect his behavior. He wants blood, you can see it even from your distance, and you're pretty sure he's going to get it and then…

You hear a sharp scream as he falls to his knees and the girl takes off running, safe now until she trips on something that may or may not exist and falls down a small hill. Perfect. Now you pretty much _have_ to do something, she's so close and so obviously not alright and… what the hell, if she attacks you, won't be the worst thing ever.

You slip into view, kneel down beside her, do a quick visual check to make sure she's not bleeding or worse. Best-case scenario, most likely scenario, she's got a few nasty bruises in places covered by her clothing - nothing that'll kill her. She'll be fine in a few hours tops, you just need to get her someplace where the right people will find her before anyone else does.

"What are you-?" Her voice is cautious, worried as you lift her into your arms. She's so tiny, scarcely more than half your size, and getting her to safety is going to be easier than you'd previously thought. "Where are you taking me?"

You wish you could tell her, but you can't. You know the cameras are probably loving this, waiting to see you snap, and you can't give them the satisfaction of hearing your voice. No, you have to make her trust you, just in case the fact that she's still alive isn't enough. But how to do that…

"You don't have to do this," she says. "I… I'll be alright…"

One foot in front of the other, slow because you don't want to frighten her, towards a more central space. Another couple of minutes, and then you'll watch over her until it's someone else's turn. They didn't have to recruit you into whatever the hell organized thing certain people think they're doing - you've come of your own free will, wrapped around a woman you know almost nothing about. You want to know, you decide. You never will, you're so sure of that, but the heart wants what it wants and yours is conscious for the first time in too long.

Carefully, you set her down, doing as much as you can to make sure she's comfortable. She tries to stand but drops back to the ground, a sharp pain in her ankle from the fall. "Thank you," she whispers, taking your hands for a heartbeat. It's the first innocent voluntary touch you've received in longer than you can remember, and it feels right. "Stay with me?"

You do for a while, knife in one hand and the other entwined with hers, until you hear worried voices in the distance. Quick as you appeared, you drop the knife where she can easily take it - she needs it more than you do, especially since the one she previously had is hopefully still embedded in the thigh of someone who had it coming - and vanish once more. You've done what you needed to do.

When the arena is breached, you are not one of the lucky ones. Just as well - you never thought you would be. Hoped you'd be dead by now, but it's easy enough to figure out how you'll meet that fate under current circumstances. You're not sure which of the others are in the concrete prison you assume is somewhere near the Capitol, but it's definitely not soundproof and you learn to distinguish between a set of male screams and a set that is decidedly female. After what feels like about two weeks, another male set is added, but still you can't place who any of the voices belong to. It doesn't matter, though, because none of them is _hers_.

It's almost creepy, the way you've fallen for this girl. She's a mystery, an image on a screen and a shaking body in your arms for a heartbeat, you know nothing about her and yet you know more than enough to justify these emotions. She is brave, she is either dead or safe elsewhere, she is fearless, she is beautiful. And when you're alone, running your hands over the new things _they_ have done to you, it's too easy to hope that next time, if by some miracle you survive this, you'll finally do something. She's worth breaking your silence for.

You're surprised when the rescue happens, and you mentally check out for most of it because you can. No one hovers over you. They're too busy worrying about the girl from Three - she's strapped to a stretcher, and judging by how loud she's been the last few days, you can only guess why - and keeping the other two quiet. You, you barely exist. You're not currently bleeding, you can still stand upright, you're _fine_. Never mind the bruises, the badly healing cuts, the burns on your back. You're not a casualty _yet_ , so once more you are in the background. Perfect.

The ship lands, you're not sure _where_ but suddenly there are more people and you are still ignored. You follow, hoping someone will notice enough to point you in an appropriate direction, and then suddenly you see _her_. She's moving closer, she's completely fine, she's…

"You're alive."

You barely recognize the sound of your own voice, lower than you remember but there are a few plausible explanations for that, but you've waited too long. It's an acceptable lapse in what has become equal parts stubbornness and coping mech, and maybe you won't wander back to that so soon. Maybe…

She's worried about you. Dammit, she's _worried_ about you. Well, this was not something you expected. You tell her you're fine, or at least you try to, but she accepts none of it and you like her that much more for it. She's odd in some ways, this glorious girl, but so are you and your eccentricities mesh well.

"C'mon," she says after a while, squeezing your hand. "I'm pretty sure I already said this, but you look like hell and… I know medics are weird, but I know stuff. I'm not gonna hurt you."

You trust her, so you let her lead you through a maze of hallways until she stops in front of a particular door. "This is my room. They'll probably put you somewhere else, but… you can rest here, it's safe. I'm not gonna leave."

"You were going to…"

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Sorry. Got distracted. Um… sit down and take off your shirt so I can see?"

You do as you're told, slowly because you can already tell how this ends. She'll freak out one way or another, you haven't actually _seen_ the condition certain parts of you are in but you can guess based on the pain and you doubt it's pretty. Not that what you _can_ see is any better, but…

"You're brave," she says, glancing around in a drawer and pulling out a little bottle of something. "Is it okay if I… this is gonna hurt if I put it on you, I think, but it'll help."

"Do it." Like you can even feel pain anymore.

On second thought, you can - the liquid seeping into your skin has a certain sensation, but after a few minutes it becomes numb. You can still feel her fingertips, though, so small and delicate. "That's all I can really do," she says after a while, turning so she can look at you with disappointed eyes. "I could try to get more supplies, but…"

"It's alright."

"You don't expect much from people," she laughs.

"You're safe. That's what matters."

"Oh, don't tell me you're yet another person who thinks I'm a damn symbol of something that won't even work…"

"No. You're better than that."

She kisses the tip of your nose, hands back in yours. "If you say so."

"Yes, Octavia. You are." End of discussion. You're safe. _She's_ safe. Nothing else matters.


End file.
